Chapter 974

The impact cracked through Ludger’s forearms and drove him back into the barrier. The magical wall flashed behind him, ripples of force spreading outward from his shoulder blades as the collision rebounded through his body.

Before Ludger could breathe, the second punch came. Then the third.

Verk hammered into him with mechanical precision, fists glowing faintly with compressed energy around the knuckles. Ludger kept his forearms high, protecting his head and throat, shifting just enough to keep the worst strikes from landing clean.

But he could not move away. That was the problem. He had nowhere to bleed the force.

Every hit shoved him back into the barrier. Every rebound threw the pressure forward again. The magic wall turned the beating into a vice, absorbing none of the pain and returning plenty of it.

Verk’s fist slammed into Ludger’s left guard. The damaged forearm guard rang like a cracked bell. Another punch drove into the right. Then Verk changed angles and drove a knee into Ludger’s ribs.

Ludger grunted.

A sharp, ugly sound escaped him as the blow slipped under his guard and struck exposed flesh. Something in his side screamed. Maybe a bruise. Maybe a cracked rib. Maybe both. He didn’t have the luxury of checking.

He tightened his core and kept his arms up.

Verk punched again. Ludger blocked. Again. Blocked. A kick slammed into his thigh, hard enough to buckle the leg for half a second. Verk followed immediately with an elbow toward his temple.

Ludger barely tilted his guard in time.

The strike smashed against his bracer instead of his skull, but the force still rattled his head and made his vision blur white at the edges. Rainwater flew from his hair. Blood sprayed from his mouth.

He swallowed the pain and stayed upright. Verk didn’t slow.

The armor moved him in tight, efficient patterns, each strike flowing into the next with a speed no unarmored body should have been able to match. Punch to the guard. Kick to the knee. Palm strike to the chest. Elbow to the side. Knee to the stomach.

Ludger absorbed what he could. Deflected what he could. Failed to stop the rest. A punch struck his shoulder, right where the joint had been dislocated earlier. Pain exploded down his arm.

His guard dipped. Verk saw it instantly.

A kick crashed into Ludger’s abdomen and lifted him slightly off his feet, only for the barrier behind him to keep him from flying away. His body hit the magic wall again, the dome flashing in a wide ripple as the impact pinned him there for half a heartbeat.

Verk stepped in and drove a fist into Ludger’s lower ribs.

Then another. Then a third. Ludger’s arms snapped down to cover his torso before the damage stacked too deep. Verk changed targets immediately.

A backhand struck the side of Ludger’s head.

The blow half-slipped past the raised guard and clipped him hard enough to turn the world sideways. His ear rang. His knees dipped. His shoulder dragged against the barrier as he nearly slid down.

No. Ludger forced his legs to lock. He raised his guard again. Verk clicked his tongue. Then he hit harder. The next punch landed on Ludger’s forearms with enough force to drive both arms into his own face. His nose cracked against the inside of his guard. Blood ran hot over his lips.

Another kick slammed into his calf. Another punch hit his ribs. Another elbow scraped across his cheek, tearing skin open near the bone. Ludger’s world narrowed.

Guard. Breathe. Brace. Endure.

Head and torso first. Everything else second. That was all he could afford. Verk seemed to realize it too, because he started targeting everything Ludger wasn’t protecting. A heavy stomp crushed down toward Ludger’s foot.

He twisted just enough to avoid losing toes, but the edge still caught him, pain flaring through his ankle.

A punch hammered into his bicep. A kick slammed into his hip. A knee drove into his thigh. A palm strike blasted against his collarbone, sending another flash of heat across his skin. Ludger’s body was being dismantled by inches.

Not cleanly. Not gloriously. Just efficiently.

Verk was not trying to win a duel anymore. He was working around the guard, breaking supports, damaging joints, punishing every exposed patch of flesh until the protection around Ludger’s head and chest became meaningless because the body holding it up would stop functioning. And Ludger knew it. His teeth clenched. His eyes stayed open. Even as blows landed. Even as his legs shook.

Even as the barrier behind him hummed with every impact. He watched. The rhythm. The armor’s delay between augmented strikes. The slight recoil after each heavier punch. The way the left knee moved half a fraction slower after Verk overcommitted with the right hand. The way the chest runes pulsed before power transferred to the palms. Pain tried to make everything simple.

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Survive. Block. Don’t fall.

But Ludger forced himself to keep thinking beneath it. Because if he stopped thinking, he was just a punching bag. Verk drove a fist into his guard again. The weakened forearm plate cracked.

A sliver of metal snapped free and spun away into the rain. Ludger’s arm went numb for half a second. Verk smiled.

“There it is.”

He stepped in, twisted, and delivered a brutal kick into Ludger’s side. This time Ludger couldn’t fully brace.

The blow folded him sideways against the barrier, and a wet, strangled hiss escaped through his teeth. The magic wall behind him flashed again, trapping the impact inside his body instead of letting him fly clear.

Verk grabbed his shoulder with one armored hand and slammed him back upright against the barrier.

Then punched him in the stomach.

Once. Twice. Three times. Ludger’s breath vanished. His mouth opened soundlessly. The world dimmed. Verk leaned closer, rain running down the smooth lines of his helmet and armor.

“You’re done,” he said.

Ludger’s head hung for half a second.

His arms remained raised. Barely.

Then one eye opened fully beneath wet strands of hair.

Cold. Focused. Still there.

Verk’s expression tightened. Ludger spat blood onto the armor’s chest plate.

“Keep going,” he rasped. “I can do this all day.”

Verk’s face twisted. Then he hit him again. Ludger’s wounds kept increasing. There was no avoiding that.

Verk hit too fast, too hard, and from too many angles while Ludger’s back remained pinned near the barrier. Every punch that landed sent sharp bursts of pain through muscle and bone. Every kick added another bruise, another tear, another ugly reminder that the armor was not just enhancing Verk’s strength.

It was multiplying it. A fist slammed into Ludger’s ribs. Something cracked. A knee drove into his thigh hard enough that the leg nearly gave out.

A palm strike clipped his shoulder and tore the joint wrong again for half a second before Ludger forced it back under control.

His forearm guards kept shrinking in usefulness, cracked and warped from accumulated punishment. His skin split under glancing hits. Blood ran freely now, mixing with the rain and pooling at his feet.

But as new wounds appeared… the old ones healed. Not completely. Not cleanly. But fast. Too fast.

Healing Touch pulsed through Ludger again and again in rough, efficient waves. A cut across his cheek sealed before the blood fully reached his jaw. A bruise along his ribs faded just enough to keep the muscles working. Torn skin along his forearm closed while Verk was already breaking something else.

It wasn’t elegant healing. It was battlefield repair. Ugly. Expensive. Desperate. Enough. Verk noticed. At first, his expression held satisfaction. Then concentration. Then irritation.

The more he struck, the more obvious it became that Ludger was not staying up through toughness alone. The boy was using every fraction of mana he could recover, every breath, every pulse, every scrap of focus, to keep the damage from crossing the line into collapse.

Verk’s mouth tightened.

“You really are disgusting.”

Ludger didn’t answer. He couldn’t afford to. A punch slammed into his guard. Another into his shoulder. A third into his stomach. Ludger’s body shook with each impact, but his eyes remained open. Watching. Counting. Waiting beneath the pain.

That annoyed Verk more. So he sped up.

The armor whined as more power surged through its frame. Runes along the legs and arms brightened, and Verk’s attacks became heavier, faster, meaner. He no longer bothered with testing angles. He began smashing through them.

A right hook cracked into Ludger’s forearms and drove both arms into his face.

A kick smashed into his hip.

An elbow caught the side of his head and split skin above his brow.

A knee buried itself in his abdomen hard enough to lift him briefly off the ground before the barrier behind him shoved him back into place.

Damage piled up. Too much now.

Even Healing Touch couldn’t erase everything before the next hit came. Bones broke and were held together badly. Cuts closed half-way before reopening under new impact. Bruises faded only to be replaced by deeper ones. Ludger’s healing was no longer keeping him ahead.

Only keeping him functional. Barely. Verk saw it and smiled again.

“There,” he hissed. “There’s the limit.”

He pulled his right arm back for another heavy strike, runes flaring along the gauntlet.

Ludger’s head hung slightly.

His knees shook. His arms were loose. Open. Verk took the bait.

He drove both hands forward, one to grab, one to crush, intending to pin Ludger properly and finish the beating with a blast at point-blank range.

Ludger moved. Not fast enough to look clean. Fast enough. Both of his hands snapped up and clamped around Verk’s armored wrists.

The grip locked. Verk’s eyes widened. For the first time in the exchange, his arms stopped moving.

Ludger’s fingers dug into the armor seams with everything he had left, his damaged hands tightening like iron clamps. The runic suit immediately tried to compensate, motors whining, power surging through the limbs to tear free.

Too late.

Ludger’s body dropped. Then both legs came up. He kicked Verk in the face with both feet. The impact cracked through the night.

It wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t martial perfection. It was a brutal double kick launched from point-blank range by someone who had spent the last minute letting himself get beaten into the exact position he needed.

Both heels slammed into Verk’s helmet and exposed faceplate area with enough force to snap his head back violently.

The runic armor staggered. The grip on Ludger broke for half a second. But Ludger still had Verk’s wrists. He hit him again.

A second double kick crashed into the faceplate, harder than the first, metal denting inward as Verk stumbled back another step.

Then Ludger landed badly, one knee almost buckling beneath him.

But he was smiling. Blood ran down his chin. One eye was half-swollen. His breathing sounded like broken glass dragged through his lungs.

Still, he smiled.

“Got you,” Ludger rasped.

Verk froze for one fraction of a heartbeat. That was all Ludger needed.